


One World

by Rahar_Moonfire



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 14:30:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1986465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rahar_Moonfire/pseuds/Rahar_Moonfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another world, the humans discovered their Nations.  Instead of awe and loyalty, they felt fear, distrust, and disgust.  They hunted down their Nations and killed them.  But a Nation is immortal and cannot be slain by conventional means.  If they are killed, they either revive where they are or return to that from which they came, the Relic.  Made long before the oldest living Nation's memory, the Relic is all they have left to explain their unknown origins as symbiotic beings living together with their respective countries.</p><p>The few Nations not murdered by their own people or temporarily sealed within the Relic gather in the Vatican for their last stand. But something goes wrong and these few survivors are now in a world that is Earth, but not their earth.  Perhaps the answers they seek lie here with a team of humans known as the Tau'ri. Perhaps this was their Earth all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One World

They ran but there was no escape, and they knew it. They were merely delaying their own demise. It wouldn't be long now.

How? How could this…happen? So many lost. So few remain. They had to stick together, no matter what. If the Nations died, they would return to the Relic.  If the humans destroyed the Relic, then no one would be left. The worlds would linger on in silence.

So they ran. Thanks to Spain's quick thinking, the remaining countries had managed to stow away in St. Peter's Basilica. When the humans had first learned of their Nations' existence, they reacted with fear and disgust lashing out and murdering them. The few survivors had only managed to live as long as they had because so many of their own people had sacrificed themselves to protect them, their spirits returning to the Relic for safe keeping until such time as they could be safely revived.

It was not fair. It should be the other way around. The Nations longed to protect their people and their land, love them, grow with them as true symbiotic beings.  Not be attacked and hated by the very thing that defines their existence.

But there really was no such thing as "fair" in this world, was there?

Italy and Romano held each other close. No matter what the price, they had to protect the item held between them at all costs. So long as _it_ survived, then there was a chance of the others returning. The fact that the Relic had been placed in Vatican City for safe keeping was a coincidence. It was meant to go to Greece, but they thanked the Earth that this had not happened. Turkey had fought bravely, but had been lost while smuggling the Relic to the Italian brothers to take to Greece who fell soon after.

And now, they and the few other Nations still alive, were all that were left to defend it.

So much death. Why? What had they done to deserve this? Was existing such a terrible thing? They never asked for this. They just were and always had been. Was that so wrong?

Italy whimpered as a loud bang echoed throughout the practically deserted basilica and snuggled closer to his brother. Romano tightened his grip on his brother's shaking form. He felt more then heard Spain move to a defensive position closer to his former protectorate and dearest friend. Germany and Japan stood close by while the Allies, what few were left of them, formed a semicircle around the twins. Romano and Italy were a last resort. They would only fight if they had no other choice, and everyone knew it. The Italians' sole duty at this moment was to protect the Relic at all costs.  Drawing from a power they had not used in centuries, the surviving Nations stood as the Relic's protectors…to the end.

This could be the end.

Another crash and the doors shook as their hinges began to give. At least none of the humans dared call an airstrike on the ancient basilica. The nations all realized that these could be their last moments in this world and braced for it. There was a deafening explosion followed by soldiers charging down the empty aisle firing their weapons destroying parts of the beautiful St. Peter's Basilica and wounding the nations within. A mere mortal weapon could not kill an immortal easily, but it could kill them with enough effort.

America, ever the hero, and Russia, not to be shown up by a younger nation, charged the enemy. England instantly began chanting spells from his ancient grimoire while Japan and Canada covered England giving him the chance to complete his spells. Germany and Spain refused to leave the Italian brothers, adopting the position of bodyguards.

Had they been at their full power, defeating mere mortals such as these would be fairly easy. But they were tired, wounded, and demoralized. So many compatriots lost, so much of their land, their homes, destroyed to the point that there was little left for them in this world. But it appeared that because of their long peace, they had let their guards down and thus now had to face the consequences. Their countries, their people, everything they represented, everything they were in this world was gone. Destroyed. They had no choice but to fight a battle they saw hope of winning.  They did not want to be forgotten, to die permanently, to fade away into oblivion.

But so long as the Relic survived, all those Nations who had been lost in this world could be revived eventually. But that was much easier said than done, especially when they were so terribly outnumbered and outmatched.  China glanced at Germany who met his eyes and nodded before pulling a grenade from his pocket and removing the safety rod. The blonde Nation tossed the hand-held bomb into the air. It touched the ground for a split-second in the middle of a group of soldiers before exploding.

The brilliant flash and loud noise accompanied by a familiar cries of agony made little Veneciano squeak and bury his face in his brother's shoulder. He did not want to know who they lost now.  Just a little longer before they all met their end in this god-forsaken place.

God save them all.

There was another scream, this one near and dear to Veneciano's heart, and Veneciano's head jerked up just in time to see Germany stumble and fall to the ground with ugly bullet wounds in his chest, vanishing into dust.

"No!" the younger Italian screamed as he struggled against his brothers iron grip.

The Relic held by the twins began to give off a soft glow distracting the brothers from the blood and death around them.  Something was happening; something no one had anticipated.  Something whispered to the elder Italian, not a voice but a patient tugging that grew ever more insistent.  The others...

"To me!" Romano hollered. Not questioning the order, the Nations pushed their assailants away and high tailed it towards the altar and the Italians.  A part of Romano grieved to see only a limping America, a gun wielding Canada, a blood-blinded England, and bleeding Japan left.  When they were close enough, Romano drew himself up to his full height, hiding his terror and pain in a tightened hold on Veneciano's equally clutching hand. "Fratello, listen to me.  Cast your strongest spell as soon as I finish. See you on the other side, fratellino."

Veneciano nodded grimly and grasped his twin's hand cradling the Relic in their sweating palms and together they prayed harder than they ever had before.  They were two halves of a whole, weak and pathetic as separate entities, but incredibly powerful when united as one.  Satisfied, Romano raised his right arm and commanded in a voice that resonated in the great hall, "Rosario Impale!" 

Instantly, a burst of light and raw power that was his strongest attack blazed from the elder twin's outstretched hand and blasted the soldiers out back towards the broken doors of the basilica obliterating everything in between.

As soon as the power left him, Romano slumped on his twin in exhaustion.  Veneciano cradled his brother close, the Relic a comforting weight between them, and never let go of his Romano's hand. The younger Nation shuddered when chips of the roof far above began to crumble.  He did not want to die, but he had a promise to keep.  If they were to die, it would not be at the hands of their once beloved people.  It would be here, in a building filled with history, their history.  Raising his amber eyes to his fellow Nations hovering close around them, he smiled.  At least they would not die alone. 

With that thought, Veneciano fought past his fear and hollered as loud as his tear mangled voice could manage, "Judgement!"

Power flooded his veins, exploding outward from the tight clump of wounded Nations and obliterated everything around them. Veneciano's heart called out for his and his brother's home, their landscape, their people, their Earth.  And it answered.  The Relic still held between the two brothers, blazed with life and filling the air with a brilliant white light. Another St. Peter's Basilica, this one whole, beautiful, and currently filled with people observing Mass flickered around the exhausted Nations briefly replacing the ruined one.  For a moment, the Nations existed in two worlds simultaneously.  Then there was a loud crack and Veneciano screamed in agony as a bullet shot from the gun of a single dying soldier tore though his arm into his chest.  Veneciano's scream echoed in both worlds followed closely by another voice calling, "Hang on Feli!"

The crumbling basilica surrounding the Nations flickered out of existence moments before a large piece of the basilica roof smashed to the ground where they had been.  Veneciano clutched his brother and the precious Relic close to him as his concentration wavered just long enough for the basilica to vanish again, this time replaced by mountains and a darkening sky.

Romano, clung to his wounded brother just as the younger Nation lost consciousness.  The next thing Romano was aware of was collapsing under both his own and his little brother's weight.  He staggered under the weight before he was caught by a pair of strong arms and gently lowered to kneel on the ground, his back resting against something warm and solid. He clutched his young brother, his precious brother close to his chest as he leaned back into his rescuer's arms.

"Don't worry. I got ya'."

Oh that accent was unmistakable. "America…?" Romano whispered.  He coughed before following his brother into unconsciousness, his grip on his brother's body never letting up in the least.

America smiled quietly. They'd made it, thanks to these two. He felt stupid for not being heroic enough to keep them from harm, but at least he'd been able to catch them in the end. He glanced up at the mountains surrounding them and his breath caught.  He knew this place.  Of all places, the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. He'd have a tough time explaining this one.  But hopefully here, on his own soil, he could protect his friends.

After all, who knew the United States of America like the United States of America?


End file.
